High School Computer Time

I was expelled from high school my freshman year. When I got the chance to attend another school it was an "alternative" school nicknamed "burn center". Our school was underfunded and lacked the resources that were available to other schools in the district. For the first year or so that I was there, we didn't really have more than a few computer in the whole school and they were reserved for special projects. However, we shaped up and won the "alternative school of the year" award. This brought in some extra money and the computers turned up eventually.

During "computer time" I looked up bands I liked and political cartoons. The rest of the time I usually spent writing in Livejournal. Every time the teachers caught us checking our email or off task on some other website, we would get the scold. But as soon as they walked away it would be up again. It's fairly easy to hide what you are doing on the internet. :)

Technology in the classroom

There are so many positives and negatives concerning technology. On the one hand, it provides us with access to information we might not normally have. It allows us to receive and transmit data at a much faster pace, and encourages long distance learning. However, technology can also hinder students' learning. When it comes to internet in the classroom, we can't control students using Myspace or chat programs. Technology also cuts out a certain quality of effort and increases the chances for plagerism.

Stacey's Indy Teach

I really liked Stacey's lesson today about language, connotations, and multi-cultural education. Our discussion of how words perpetuate racism in our society was good and I thought we all had quite a bit to offer. After reading Rayford's Song I thought I would post my version of cultural silencing in the classroom:

Central Pacific

Wei forced metal and wood into the earth

twelve hours a day.

One tight fit after another

he moved sideways in the sun.

For two years, with sweat cascading

down brow and cheek,

he put muscle into it.

Arms shining brightly in between trees

and perseverance.

Exhaustion and illness met the end of each day.

With cracked and bleeding hands

Wei went to sleep each night

holding her scarf.

Soon he would have enough to go back

and care for the baby;

To have a field of his own

where his sweat would never fall

on land worked in vain.

Hundreds of men extended westward

with the same dreams as Wei.

With each swing of the mallet

more than a stake was driven into dirt and dust.

Patience.

Hope.

Health.

Integrity.



This promise land.



Jin went to school with a question.

A century later a different story was told.

Manifest Destiny.

"The transcontinental railroad was built

to connect East and West,

industry and nature,

man and his dreams."

Cold, black text fit into a tidy paragraph.

Jin read the page carefully,

over and over,

waiting for the ink to swell and morph.

Waiting for truth to surface from ambiguity.

Jin went to school with his question.

When lunch was over and fourth period came

he raised high his ancestor's hand,

"Who built the railroad?"

he asked assertively.

"Well, all the men who wanted to be pioneers,

railroad workers. Now who can tell me

when Yellowstone was erected?"

More than Jin's question was forgotten

with the early dismissal.

Stories.

Families.

Suffering.

Dreams.



This promise land.

Maybe if I pull
just
a
bit
harder
it will come off this time.
Finger prints smudging down
my last cheek
remains.
If I just push this skin
a little further
I know it will come off completely.
There!
I saw an eye shift downward;
this must be it.
It's really coming off this time.
Slowly,
slowly,
almost got it...
Wait!
My face can't come off,
that's crazy!
Or this acid is really good.

Scrap Poetry

Thousands of blurry-eyed strangers mill around,

searching for the mediocre refreshments they were promised.

I am from John Deere tractors;

I am from a place that is mine.

How much time will it truly take?

Will deprive school kids?

Pictures follow, even ones without the graduate,

It tells everyone in the house when I'm late.

When Chris Missses Class

When Chris misses class my head swells a little;
my throat gets tight and breathing becomes

like

a

stop-

watch.

When Chris misses class I feel a headache coming on.
I start to get sweaty and my limbs are not themselves.
When Chris misses class nothing gets done,
my work is not special,
and no one pays attention,
When Chris misses class.

When Chris misses class I need a sedative
or coffee that isn't mine.
When Chris misses class I like people less.
I squint my eyes and and cross my arms
when Chris misses class.

When Chris misses class I wish I had too.

Another Version of Me

Hands held high,
with warriors in our throats,
we demand justice.
No amount of sing-song euphemisms
will suffice.
Its personal this time
and 6,000 college students
do not back down.
We will stand and stand
with grass between our toes
at the steps of the White House
because it is our house.
The first amendment in my pocket;
I know what we deserve.
And this time,
hand shakes are not enough.